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Parsha Perspectives: Eiykev-Taming the Wild Beast

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“And it will be, because you will heed these ordinances and keep them and perform, that the Lord, your God, will keep for you the covenant and the kindness that He swore to your forefathers (Devorim 7:12).”

In the opening verse of this week’s Parsha, Moshe creates a simple paradigm – if we live up to the word of God, God will deliver on the promises He made to the Patriarchs. But for the fledging Jewish nation, more important than the promises of livestock and produce, was the promise of protection and victory in the wars against the kingdoms of Canaan. Moshe reminds us that in the same way that God brought Pharaoh to his knees, He can and will do the same with Canaanite kingdoms.

Moshe continues and says, “And the Lord, your God, will drive out those nations from before you, little by little. You will not be able to destroy them quickly, lest the beasts of the field outnumber you (7:22).”  The battle for Canaan will not be quick. Not because our enemies are too fierce, but rather, out of concern that if we conquer more land than we can settle, wild animals will overrun these conquered areas and pose a threat to the nearby inhabitants. What a strange statement? Moshe has just told the people that there is going to be Divine protection and intervention, and yet, now we are worried about the beasts of the field? The same God who can bend and manipulate the laws of nature can certainly keep the animals at bay. The same God who will instill fear into the hearts of the Canaanite soldiers could also instill fear within the animals causing them to retreat from before the Jewish people. How are we to understand this statement of Moshe?

The Modgitzer Rebbe (Rav Shaul Yedidyah Elazar of Modgitz) provides an amazing insight. When forced to fight, man must draw on his animalistic instincts. When forced to kill, man gives up (loses) some part of his humanity. Life often calls for such drastic measures. Wars must be waged for the needs of the nation and for the actualization of Jewish destiny. The soldier must be prepared to take the life of another if this is what the mission calls for. However, there is a reality that must be acknowledged. There is collateral damage on a personal level. After fighting a war, after taking a life – the soldier is no longer the same. Once those feelings and instincts that allowed one to kill have been unleashed it is not easy to simply bottle them up. This, explains the Rebbe, is the meaning of the pasuk. Why not just go to war with all of the Canaanite nations at once? Why will God drive them out ‘little by little’? To which God answers, “Pen tirbeh lecha chayas haSadeh (Llest the beasts of the field become too much upon you).”  The beasts to which the Torah refers are not the animals that inhabit the land of Israel – but rather, the animal that dwells within. God explains, “If I have you engage in constant fighting, constant bloodshed, constant war – the animal within will overwhelm you and can extinguish your humanity. Therefore, I will clear out the nations slowly – you will have to fight – but you will also have time to heal. The mission will be accomplished but at a slower pace to allow for the preservation of the Tzelem Elokim (the Divine Image) within each and every solider.” 

The Rebbe’s insight teaches us a valuable lesson. What we do, determines who we are. The actions we engage in – shape and mold our very character and essence. If we want to become good and holy people we must engage in good and holy behaviors. At times, we engage in certain activities that we know are detrimental (to our body or soul) but we convince ourselves that this action will not color who we are.  “Pen tirbeh alecha chayas haSadeh” – if we act like an animal, our inner animal will dominate and eclipse the beauty and holiness we possess within.

There are times when we must unleash the animal within, but we must have a plan to rein it in, assess the damage and create a space in which to repair and heal.

Our actions define us; our actions solidify our identity. Let us find the strength to make the right decisions and choices, but when we fall and when we fail, let us find the courage to rein in the beasts of the field.

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Parsha Perspectives: Vaeschanan-The Pain of Consolation

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“Nachamu Nachamu Ami – Be consoled, be consoled my people (Isaiah 40:1).”

We read these beautiful words of the prophet, Yeshayahu (Isaiah) on the Shabbos immediately following Tisha B’Av. When the fast ends we feel euphoric, excited and optimistic. But why? What is different? The Temple has not yet been rebuilt, anti-Semitism still exists and there is still in-fighting within our people. Why is this Shabbos a Shabbos of Consolation when nothing has seemingly changed?

Rav Ephraim Oshry (1914-2003) provides an amazing insight. Rav Oshry was the Rav of the Kovno Ghetto and answered many questions of halacha (Jewish law) throughout the war. He compiled these heartbreaking, yet inspiring responsa in a work titled, Responsa from the Depths. In his introduction to the third volume he raises an interesting question and provides an incredible insight and explanation. The Torah states:

“You shall remember what Amalek did to you on the way, when you went out of Egypt, how he happened upon you on the way and cut off all the stragglers at your rear, when you were faint and weary…Therefore, it will be, when the Lord, your God, grants you respite from all your enemies around [you] in the land which the Lord, your God, gives to you as an inheritance to possess, that you shall obliterate the remembrance of Amalek from beneath the heavens. You shall not forget! (Devorim 25:17-19).”

“Why must the Torah tell us to “remember” and “not forget”? Is this not redundant? God knew we would remember what Amalek (Rav Oshry relates historical Amalek to the Nazis) did to us. How can we not remember? The fire still burns, the pain is still acute. How can we not remember Auschwitz, the Ninth Fort, and Bergen Belsen? But the Torah explains, ‘when the Lord, your God, grants you respite from all your enemies….In the land which the Lord, your God, gives you as an inheritance to possess;’ God knows that we will rebuild. We will rebuild our families, we will rebuild our wealth, we will rebuild our people, and we will rebuild ourselves. And we will begin to think, why should we hold on to the pain of the past? Let the past be the past. What good does it do to hold on to the pain when all it does is hold me back and anchor us inour heartbreak? God knew that when life would once again become good and filled with happiness and accomplishment; we would try to forget our pain. Therefore, God commands, “You shall not forget.”  Even when life is beautiful – never forget your pain.”

But why not? After all, doesn’t there come a point in time when I must let go of the past in order to build a future? Doesn’t there come a point when I should unshackle myself from the heartbreak in order to feel joy? The Torah is teaching us an important lesson. The Jew never forgets or buries his pain – the Jew owns his pain. I look at my pain and I ask myself what can I learn about myself, my life and my world from this difficult situation. I own my pain and use it as a catalyst for growth. I own my pain and use its lessons as fuel for my engine of life productivity and meaning. “You Shall Remember,” is the natural reaction to pain when the wound is open, and the pain is clearly felt. But lest we think that at some point we need to forget to move on – God reminds us “You shall not forget.” Don’t try to bury, conceal or hide your pain – own it, learn and grow from it.

Perhaps, this is the consolation, the nechama (consolation) of Shabbos Nachamu.  On Tisha B’Av we allow ourselves to experience the crushing burden of 2,000 years of national and individual pain. At times throughout the day we feel as if our collective heart will burst from the sadness and despair. But then something amazing happens. We begin the process of owning our pain. We begin to learn from the tragedies. From our tears and sadness, we learn the need for compassion, empathy and unconditional love. From our heartbreak, we learn tolerance and respect. From our adversity, we learn that we are resilient, and can adapt and rebound from the most difficult of circumstances. From our loss, we learn that there is no greater force in nature than the Jewish soul. We take these powerful lessons and make them part of who we are. We own our pain and we recognize that nothing and no one can stop us from accomplishing our spiritual goals and aspirations. The moment we learn from our pain and realize that pain is the ultimate catalyst for growth, is the moment we begin to feel a wave of comfort. Those who own their pain are comforted by their pain.

I wish each of you a Shabbos of introspective consolation.

May we merit the ultimate consolation with the arrival of the Moshiach, speedily in our days, amen.

 

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Parsha Perspectives: Tisha B’Av – Impaired Vision

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This coming Sunday, we will observe the saddest and most traumatic day on our calendar: Tisha B’av (the 9th of the Hebrew month of Av). It is on this day that we remember the tragedies and catastrophes which have befallen our people over the last few thousand years. But the darkness and sadness of this day can be traced to one, singular episode: the Sin of the Spies. Despite the assurances of God and Moshe we felt compelled to scout out the Land of Israel. The spies came back, delivered their disastrous report, telling the nation that the land was simply unconquerable. These demoralizing words sent the people into a downward spiral. The nation cried, and it is here that the Talmud records a dramatic statement: “God said, ‘You have cried unnecessary tears, I will cause you to cry for many generations to come.” (Taanis 31) When did this report and Divine response occur? On the 9th of Av. It is the sin of the spies that created the tragic foundation for this difficult day. A foundation upon which tragedy has been layered over the last two thousand years. 

But did the punishment fit the crime? We as a nation certainly were ungrateful and lacked faith. But to condemn every Jew (over the age of 20) to death in the desert; to mark this day for ongoing tragedy, seems a bit disproportionate. Furthermore, the people tried to do teshuva (repent). The very next morning the Torah relates that the people arose early in the morning and ascended to the mountaintop, saying, “’We are ready to go up to the place of which the Lord spoke, for we have sinned.’ Moses said, ‘Why do you transgress the word of the Lord? It will not succeed. Do not go up, for the Lord is not among you, [so that] you will not be beaten by your enemies (Bamidbar 14:39-41).’” They acknowledged their mistake and tried to right the wrong, yet the punishment was still severe and swift. How are we to understand the nature of their mistake and the Divine reaction?

The Dubno Maggid (Rabbi Yaakov Kranz, 1740-1804) explains this dynamic with a mashal (parable). There was a fine young man who was known to be a Torah scholar with sterling middos (character traits) who was engaged to marry a young woman from a very wealthy family. One day, as the fathers were sitting down to discuss the financial arrangements for the upcoming wedding, the father of the bride told the father of the groom, “I am so happy our children are getting married, we will be happy to pay for the wedding. My only request is that you take care of outfitting your son for the wedding. But it is important that you buy him a suit of the finest materials.” To which the father of the groom responded, “My dear friend, I, too, share your excitement for the upcoming wedding of our children and I have much appreciation for your generosity. I am a man of virtually no means and while I can certainly afford a basic wardrobe for my son, I can’t purchase the type of clothing you are suggesting.” “Well if you can’t provide this one small part, then the wedding is off!” replied the father of the bride. And so, the beautiful match ended. A few months went by and the father of the bride regretted his hasty decision. The groom was such a fine young man with such refined character, how could he justify breaking off the nuptials over a suit. He contacted the father of the groom and voiced his desire to have their children marry.  “My dear friend,” replied the father of the groom, “my son is a very special young man who has much potential. Yet, you were willing to cast him aside because of a suit. Any family that would treat my son this way doesn’t truly appreciate who my son is. I no longer wish for my son to be a part of your family.”  

The Dubno Maggid explains, when the spies maligned the Land of Israel, it highlighted a fundamental lack of love and appreciation for the Land. This wasn’t simply a lack of proper judgment; this sin represented a fundamental lack of understanding of the preciousness and holiness of the Land. A mistake of this magnitude could not simply be remedied by attempting to march on the Land the next day, nor could it be remedied through a simple apology. It would take another forty years of nomadic existence to cultivate an appreciation for a home, for a land, for a destiny. The real sin of the spies was one of flawed perspective and outlook. All they saw were the problems; they failed see the beauty and good.  

Nothing in life is perfect. Everything and everyone has its strengths and weaknesses but if all we see is what is broken and wrong, we end up appreciating nothing. Many of us have struggles with which we must contend each and every day, but we must be careful that these struggles don’t obscure or eclipse our blessings. It is easy to lose oneself in the sadness and despair of difficult circumstances. We must always maintain a healthy disposition and recognize all the beautiful berachos and bounty we possess as well.  

This lesson has an important interpersonal ramification as well. There is an amazing Gemara.

“Rabbi Chiya’s wife was a difficult person. Yet, whenever he would come across a nice item, he would purchase it, wrap it and give it to his wife (as a gift). Rav (Rabbi Chiya’s student) observed this and said, ‘Rebbe, why are you doing this? We see how she often mistreats you.’ To which Rabbi Chiya responded, ‘It is enough (I have gratitude) that she raises the children (she is a wonderful mother) and saves me from sin’ (Yevamos 63a).”

Apparently, Rabbi Chiya didn’t have a story book marriage. There were complications. Yet, Rabbi Chiya chose to see the beautiful aspects of his wife’s personality. Rabbi Chiya realized that in life nothing and no one is perfect, and one must choose through which lens he will view others and the world. People wrong us, people hurt us, but we must learn how to see the positive aspects in the other. This is not just in marriage. The Rabbi Chiya standard must guide and inform all our interpersonal relationships.

Tisha B’Av is a day of tears for all that has been lost. We cry for the dreams which never materialized and for those we have lost and whose absence is acutely felt by our nation. Yet, we must remember that even on Tisha B’Av itself, the mourning practices lessen as the day progresses. Because after we cry and after we mourn, we must remind ourselves that all is not lost. We each have beautiful blessings, each of us are beautiful blessings. As we dry our tears, we pledge to ourselves that we will not lose ourselves in the abyss of sadness or despair. We will focus on that which is good. We will strain ourselves to see something beautiful and positive in every person and to actively take stock of our personal blessings. We won’t be spies, living life with a skewed perception. Perhaps, this is the merit we need. If we see the good in the other, ourselves and the world, maybe this will be the last Tisha B’Av marked with mourning.  

May we merit to see the coming of Moshiach, the rebuilding of the Beis HaMikdash and the drying of our tears.

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Parsha Perspectives: Matos Maasei-Moving Forward While Standing in Place

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“These are the journeys of the children of Israel who left the land of Egypt in their legions, under the charge of Moses and Aaron.” (Bamidbar 33:1)

In the beginning of Maasei (the second of the two parshios we read this week) the Torah lists the 42 places we camped during our 40 year sojourn in the desert. There are 49 verses dedicated to this geography lesson; a staggering amount of biblical real-estate devoted to listing names of places which have disappeared into the sands of time. Why spend so much time focusing on these places many of which have ceased to exist? Furthermore, the Torah opens this section with the words “Eyleh maasei (these are the journeys)”; a journey reflects movement, yet the Torah then goes on to list the places where we camped (stopped moving). If we are listing the encampments, let the verse state, “These are the encampments of the Children of Israel.” How are we to understand this strange verbiage?

The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, 1902-1994) explains that in fact the Torah is teaching us a two-part lesson. Eyleh maasei (these are the journeys); life is about perpetual movement. A person must choose between being a holeych (one who walks) or an omeyd (one who stands still). God communicates His preference; life must be a journey, a masa. A person is commanded to live in a state ofhalicha (constant movement) and to never remain in the stagnant state of amida. Eyleh maasei (these are the journeys), is not a historical statement, it is the life mantra of the Jew. I will journey forward, I will constantly move and grow, I will never give in to the temptation of standing in place.

And yet, after stressing the importance of movement, the Torah lists the places our ancestors camped and stopped moving. And herein lies the second lesson. There are times in life when we lose our momentum. There are situations which can sideline and derail our journeys. There are circumstances which leave us standing in place. These 42 stops along the journey represent the set-backs and defeats we each experience throughout the journey in life. The Baal Shem Tov said, “the 42 journeys of our ancestors are the same journeys we each experience from the time we are born into this world until we transition to the World to Come.” There are times ofhalicha and times of amida. However, it becomes our sacred obligation to use the set-backs and defeats as opportunities for growth and development. We learn much about ourselves from the difficult chapters of life. We learn to confront our weaknesses and discover strengths we never realized we possessed. If we find the courage to grow from the moments of amida and failure then even these moments and episodes become part of the halicha, the forward movement of life.

It is in these simple verses that the Torah conveys to us, perhaps, the most important life message.  Eyleh maasei(these are the journeys); life must be filled with constant growth and movement. We cannot remain rooted in the present, we must constantly look for opportunities to advance. But know that along the way there will be stops. During the long journey there will be moments of amida which prevent us from moving forward. There will be challenges and failures. But know that if we learn something and grow from these difficulties then these moments of adversity become part of the forward moving journey.

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Parsha Perspectives: Pinchas-Creating the Clouds

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“Moses spoke to the Lord, saying: ‘Let the Lord, the God of spirits of all flesh, appoint a man over the congregation,

who will go forth before them and come before them, who will lead them out and bring them in, so that the congregation of the Lord will not be like sheep without a shepherd.’ The Lord said to Moses, ‘Take for yourself Joshua the son of Nun, a man of spirit, and you shall lay your hand upon him. And you shall present him before Elazar the Kohen and before the entire congregation, and you shall command him in their presence. You shall bestow some of your majesty upon him so that all the congregation of the children of Israel will take heed.’” (Bamidbar 27: 15-20)

Over the course of the last few Parshios, Moshe had experienced the passing of his sister, Miriam, and his brother, Aharon, and had accepted the reality that he would not enter Israel. As a devoted leader, Moshe beseeched God to appoint an able shepherd to lead, look after and love the flock. Moshe would not lead them into the Promised Land, but he did all he could to ensure they would be cared for.

But with the passing of Miriam, Aharon, and ultimately Moshe, the Jewish nation fundamentally changed. An era would came to an end and a new chapter was written. On a purely practical, day to day level, it had been the merit of these holy individuals which had actively sustained the nation.

“Rabbi Yossi the son of Rabbi Yehuda said:  The Jewish people had three good leaders (providers); Moshe, Aharon and Miriam. In the merit of these three leaders, three gifts were given to the Jewish people; the well, the cloud and the manna. The well was in the merit of Miriam, the cloud in the merit of Aharon and the manna in the merit of Moshe.” (Taanis 9a)

Each gift was uniquely related to the individual personality. Miriam was a matriarchal figure for the Jewish people. She showered them with love, concern and care. Water represents chessed (kindness) and therefore the miraculous well was given to us in her merit. Moshe gave the people spiritual life by bringing down and then teaching the Torah. Just as he gave us spiritual nourishment, in his merit we were physically nourished with heavenly bread. But what is the connection between Aharon and the clouds? Why was it in Aharon’s merit that this Divine protection was provided?

The great Chassidic master Rav Yisroel of Ruzhin (1796-1850) provides a beautiful insight. In Pirkei Avos (Ethics of our Fathers) the great sage Hillel tells us, “Be of the disciples of Aharon, love peace, pursue peace, love people and bring them closer to Torah.” Aharon’s entire life mission was to create bonds of brotherhood and friendship between man and his fellow. He took it upon himself to settle disputes, help with relationship dynamics and attempt to restore equilibrium to the familial structure. “Aharon was a pursuer of shalom (peace) and made every attempt to amplify the feelings of shalom throughout the nation. It was through his influence that people came to truly love one another. From the breath (of the kind and loving words they said to one another) that emanated from their mouths, the clouds of Glory were created.” The clouds weren’t simply given to us; they were a result of the kind words, compassionate actions and loving care that we exhibited towards one another. It was the breath created through kind and harmonious speech which created the clouds. This is the meaning of the Gemara. In the merit of Aharon’s life-work of creating shalom, love, respect and harmony, we, the Jewish people engaged in the type of speech and behavior that created the clouds.

We can create clouds even when we don’t travel together as one camp. We can create Ananei HaKavod (clouds of glory) through our actions. By going out of our way for one another, performing acts of chessed and refining our interpersonal behavior, we create magnificent, majestic clouds that can shield our people. The Talmud explains that the clouds served three purposes: to protect us from the elements, to protect us from our enemies and to level mountains and other obstacles which stood in our way. When we blanket ourselves in shalom, we are shielded from our enemies. When we blanket ourselves in the performance of chessed we need not worry about the elements. When we are united as a people, no mountain stands in our way.

We lost our beautiful and holy Bais HaMikdash (Temple) because of internal strife, hatred and animosity. During these weeks when we mourn all that we have lost, we must bolster the clouds. Each and every day, we must do something to contribute to building and sustaining shalomin Klal Yisroel. We must work harder on our relationships. We must strive to do something meaningful for another at least once a day. We must learn how toi with dignity and respect to our fellow Jews who may not share our personal beliefs or practices. We must be careful and appropriate regarding how we speak to and about our gentile neighbors of all races and colors. We must make sure that our Shuls are not only holy places of learning and prayer, but also bastions of chessed(kindness). We must try to avoid infighting and machlokesand when we do clash, to figure ways to make shalom and restore peace. We yearn for redemption and salvation, yet we forget that we hasten this process with a kind word to someone whom we may not know, a “gut Shabbos” to a visitor in Shul, a phone call to someone who is struggling or not be socially connected.

We must remember that we need each other because it is only together that we can create the clouds. Let us hope that our words and actions over the coming days and weeks will forge, cement and bolster our magnificent and eternalAnanei HaKavod. May these beautiful clouds, shelter and protect us until the coming of Moshiach.

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Parsha Perspectives: Balak-Read the Road Signs

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Bilam was a man on a mission. After receiving the invitation of Balak, the king of Moav, to curse the Jewish people, Bilam gathered some possessions, loaded his donkey and began the journey.

“In the morning Bilam arose, saddled his she-donkey and went with the Moabite dignitaries. God’s wrath flared because he was going, and an angel of the Lord stationed himself on the road to thwart him, and he was riding on his she-donkey, and his two servants were with him (Bamidbar 22:21-22)”

Rashi comments:“to thwart him: It was an angel of mercy, and he wanted to prevent him from sinning, for should he sin, he would perish.”

The Hebrew word the Torah uses for thwart isl’satan. This word conjures up many images. TheSatan is often understood to refer to the prosecuting angel who highlights our shortcomings and faults before the heavenly tribunal. At other times theSatan is a reference to the yetzer hara, the evil inclination which seeks to undermine our dynamic life growth. Yet, Rashi explains that this angel which came l’satan, to thwart, was an angel of mercy sent to try to prevent Bilam from making a terrible mistake.

It is in this simple statement that Rashi teaches us a profound life lesson about failure. There are times when, like Bilam, we set out to accomplish something great. We load the proverbial donkey and ready ourselves to move forward, only to encounter a roadblock. These roadblocks occur often throughout the journey of life. At times they are barriers which temporarily prevent us from moving forward and at other times they actively derail and overturn us. We must always remember that the roadblocks are merciful. God puts roadblocks in front of us for two primary reasons.  Sometimes the roadblocks tell us that we are headed down the wrong path. This is not the proper road for us. We need a new direction, a new destination. Many times, we think we know where we are supposed to go, but we are wrong. The destination we think we need to get to is not the right one for us (either for right now or perhaps forever). The roadblock tells us to turn around, choose a new destination and try again. Yet, sometimes the roadblock is there to make us work harder. The roadblock tells us to find an alternate route, a detour. The destination is correct but will be so much more impactful and meaningful if we must put in additional effort to reach it. The roadblock is there to test our resolve. How badly do we want to get to the intended destination? How far are we willing to travel? How hard are we willing to work? The roadblock doesn’t tell us to turn around, just to try harder.

It was an angel of mercy who tried to tell Bilam to turn around. He was headed down the wrong path; a path which would ultimately lead to his demise. It is this same angel of mercy who often stands in our way as well. At times he tells us to turn around and find another path and at times he smiles as he directs us onto the shoulder or towards a detour and gently encourages us to try harder and travel wiser. May God grant us the wisdom and understanding to know when to take the detour and when to turn around.

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Parsha Perspectives: Chukas-Appreciation and Actualization

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“The entire congregation of the children of Israel arrived at the desert of Zin in the first month, and the people settled in Kadesh. Miriam died there and was buried there. The congregation had no water; so, they assembled against Moses and Aaron.” (Bamidbar 20:1-2)

The death of Miriam, a tragic loss for the Jewish people, was compounded by the lack of water in the desert after her passing. Rashi explains that the juxtaposition of these two details is extremely important:

“From here [we learn that] all forty years they had the well in Miriam’s merit (20:2).” The miraculous well which sustained the Jewish people over the last forty years had dried up. It was the merit of Miriam which sustained the people for the last four decades.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, 1902-1994) makes an insightful and truly beautiful observation. Miriam didn’t know that the well was provided in her merit. The Jewish people didn’t know that the well was in the merit of Miriam. It was only after her passing that the Nation of Israel appreciated who this Matriarch was and what she meant to the people. It was only after her passing that Miriam herself realized what she had accomplished and contributed to the Jewish people.

This episode, with the Rebbe’s explanation, provides us with two dramatic life lessons. Too often we don’t appreciate the special people in our lives until they are gone. There are things that our leaders and loved ones contribute to the foundation of our lives which we take for granted. We assume that these details and benefits are just part of our life package. We forget that very often the things we have are a result of someone else’s hard work. Tragically, it is not until that special person is gone that we realize how much he/she meant to us. This special person can be a parent, a spouse, a friend or a teacher. They are the people who work so hard to make us happy and successful and whom too often we just take for granted. Our ancestors knew that Miriam was a righteous woman, they just didn’t appreciate what she provided them with each and every day. They never got to say thank you to a special woman who had given them so much.

The second lesson is a bit more nuanced. Miriam had no idea that her merit generated the well. She didn’t realize that it was her good deeds and personal piety which had such a dramatic impact. Many times, we grow frustrated because we feel we are not making a difference. Does my life really matter? Am I really contributing is some substantive way? Am I making my mark in this world? Miriam may have thought she didn’t matter all that much. There could be nothing further from truth. Miriam kept the people alive in the desert. It was her merit and spiritual accomplishment which sustained our nation. Just because you can’t see the impact of your actions doesn’t mean they aren’t occurring. In life you must try your best to do your best. You must put in the effort in the service of God and your fellow man. You must make the right choices and figure out how to become the very best version of yourself. If you do all of this, know that you are positively impacting your world and effecting change. You are making a difference. Miriam did what she had to do in this world and as a result we were sustained and nourished. Everything we do makes a difference even if we can’t see it.

The death of Miriam was indeed a tragic loss. Tragic because we never got to say thank you to a woman who changed our lives. Tragic because maybe she herself never realized how truly important she was. May Miriam’s memory inspire us to appreciate the special people in our lives and provide us with the courage to keep doing good, living meaningful lives filled with optimistic belief that we are making a difference.

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Parsha Perspectives: Korach-I am I

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“Korach the son of Izhar, the son of Kehath, the son of Levi took [himself to one side] along with Dathan and Abiram, the sons of Eliab, and On the son of Peleth, descendants of Reuben. They confronted Moses together with two hundred and fifty men from the children of Israel, chieftains of the congregation, representatives of the assembly, men of repute. They assembled against Moses and Aaron, and said to them, ’You take too much upon yourselves, for the entire congregation are all holy, and the Lord is in their midst. So why do you raise yourselves above the Lord’s assembly?’” (Bamidbar 16:1-3)

Korach came with a simple claim, “Kulam Kedoshim (we are all holy).” As Rashi explains “we all heard God at Mount Sinai, we are all of equal stature and standing.” Ostensibly, Korach was trying to create unity through equality. Why should Moshe and Aharon occupy positions of power and authority? They are no better or holier than the rest of us; we are all the same. There is Godliness in every Jew, there is holiness in every person. While these statements are absolutely true, Korach could not have be more wrong.

Moshe responds to Korach’s attack:

“He spoke to Korach and to all his company, saying, ‘In the morning, the Lord will make known who is His, and who is holy, and He will draw [them] near to Him, and the one He chooses, He will draw near to Him.’” (Bamidbar 16:5)

Rashi comments:

“Moses said to [Korach], The Holy One, blessed is He, assigned boundaries to His world. Are you able to transform morning into evening? That is how possible it is for you to undo this, as it says, “It was evening and it was morning… and He separated ” (Gen. 1:5, 7); similarly, “Aaron was set apart to sanctify him…”

(Midrash Tanchuma Korach 3, Num. Rabbah 4)

The Lubavitcher Rebbe provides a poignant insight. There is day and there is night. If day decided it wanted to be night, and if night pined to be day, the world as we know it would cease to exist. There are different groups within the Jewish people. The creation of Kohanim, Leviim and Yisraelim was not intended to create a caste system. Each soul is sent here to accomplish a specific mission. God gives us the circumstances and life-framework necessary to accomplish that mission. The different families, tribes and groups provide the unique platform for individual self-actualization. The soul of the Kohen has a different mission than the soul of the Levi. Those missions are actualized only through their specific tribal and familial frameworks and responsibilities. The Yisrael who cannot work or serve in the Beis Hamikdash (holy Temple) is no less important that the Kohanim and Leviim who can. His soul needs a different set of circumstances to reach its potential. Korach thought the way to create unity was to make everyone the same. Trying to make everyone the same doesn’t create unity, it creates anonymity. No two people are the same. We have different souls and therefore, different missions. God gave each of us the identity and circumstances we need to become the best version of ourselves and accomplish our individual missions here on this Earth. If we strive to be like the other, it’s day striving to become night and night yearning to shine like the day. Whenever we try to be someone or something else, rather than becoming the best version of ourselves, we undermine universal equilibrium.

Kohanim are different than Yisraelim, men are different than women, Jews are different than Gentiles and the list goes on and on. These differences are not something for us to fix or correct. These differences are to be embraced. For it is these very differences which make us who we are and allow for our unique and individual soul to accomplish its God-given mission. Korach was correct, Kulam Kedoshim, each and every one of us is incredibly holy. May we find the courage to stop trying to be the other and start developing the beautiful individual identity we each possess.

 

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Parsha Perspectives: Shlach-Fringe Benefits

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It was a tragic and traumatic event. What began as a simple reconnaissance mission descended into a slander campaign against the Land of Israel, Moshe and ultimately, God Himself. The Meraglim (spies) were upstanding men, leaders of their respective families and tribes and yet, something went so terribly wrong and these leaders led their constituents astray. They managed to convince the people that entering and conquering the land promised to Avraham Avinu had become impossible. They convinced the Jewish nation that it had all just been smoke and mirrors, that they had been betrayed by Moshe. The Divine response was quick and decisive. The spies died in a plague and the nation was condemned to roam the desert for the next four decades. The generation which left Egypt would not enter the Land of Israel, but die in the desert. The next generation would ascend and conquer the land.

The Parsha ends in a striking way:

“The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the children of Israel and you shall say to them that they shall make for themselves fringes on the corners of their garments, throughout their generations, and they shall affix a thread of sky blue [wool] on the fringe of each corner. This shall be fringes for you, and when you see it, you will remember all the commandments of the Lord to perform them, and you shall not wander after your hearts and after your eyes after which you are going astray. So that you shall remember and perform all My commandments and you shall be holy to your God. I am the Lord, your God, Who took you out of the land of Egypt to be your God; I am the Lord, your God.” (Bamidbar 15:37-41)

The Mitzvah of Tzitzis (tying fringes on the corner of our garments) is an important one but why is it given now? How does the placement of this mitzvah somehow correlate to the sin of the spies?

The biblical mitzvah of Tzitzis requires that one of the strings be dyed with techeiles (blue dye). The Gemara explains:

Rabbi Meir said: Why is Techeiles different from all other colors (i.e. why did the Torah command us to dye the string of the Tzitzis blue instead of some other color)? Because, Techeiles resembles the sea, the sea resembles the sky and the sky resembles the Throne of God.” (Menachos 43b)

The light blue color of the Tzitzis reminds us of our all-important mission: to establish a relationship with God. We have many responsibilities during our time in this world. Establishing a meaningful and fulfilling relationship with God allows us to accomplish them all. The blue string reminds us that spirituality is a step-by-step process. One can’t immediately go from Earth to the Throne of God. There is a progression. First you go to the sea, then to the heavens, etc. Spiritual accomplishment is like climbing a ladder. If you try to get to the top in one step, you will fall. Meaningful spiritual accomplishment must be advanced through a series of small, concrete steps. As such the mitzvah of Tzitzis teaches us an all-important approach to life. Spiritual growth must be a priority, establishing a relationship with God is an ultimate goal for which we strive.

Yet, we find something interesting in regard to this mitzvah. It is not obligatory. One is only obligated in Tzitzis if one has a four-cornered garment. If one never possesses such a garment, he may go through an entire life-time never fulfilling this mitzvah (contemporarily we go out of our way to obligate ourselves in this mitzvah by wearing a four-cornered garment). But if this mitzvah (and its message) is indeed so important then why is it not obligatory?

Rav Moshe Feinstein zt’l explains that God decides many things. He decides if we will be tall or short, rich or poor, wise or foolish. But God does not decide what we want from life. We must each decide what we want to accomplish, who we want to be and what contribution we want to make to this world. Themitzvah of tzitzis reminds us of our capacity to grow, to be great and accomplish incredible things. But we can only activate these abilities if we choose to do so. God can command us to do many things, but He cannot command us to strive for growth. This is a choice we each must make. Thus, the Torah makes the mitzvah of Tzitzis something one must actively choose to do rather than being required.

The spies lost their way. Somehow, they forgot about what “they wanted out of life.” They forgot that from the inception of our people, when God first communicated with Avraham, the goal was to bring us to our Land. They became so overwhelmed with the details of existence that they forgot to look beyond their immediate circumstances to the beautiful sea, heavens and Throne that awaited them. When the spies saw the “problems” in the Land they had a decision to make. Should we fall prey to small mindedness and throw our hands up in defeat? Or should we choose something bigger, better and holier for ourselves? Unfortunately, they made the wrong the decision and we still feel the impact to this very day. God gave us the mitzvah of tzitzis in the immediate aftermath of the sin of spies with the hope that its beautiful message would inspire us to be better in the future.

It is easy to get caught up in the rapid pace of life. We juggle multiple responsibilities and wear many hats. It is important to take the time to write a life mission statement. What do we want to accomplish? Who do we want to be? What impact do we hope to have? How will we measure the success of our lives on this earth? It is not enough to wear Tzitzis, we have to live Tzitzis. Do we want growth? Do we want spiritual success? Do we want a passionate relationship with God?

May we be privileged to explore the depths of our personal sea, ascend the heights of our individual heavens and feel the warmth and closeness of the Divine.

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Parsha Perspectives: Behaaloscha-Searching for Fulfillment

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“Then Moses said to Hobab the son of Reuel the Midianite, Moses’s father-in-law, ‘We are traveling to the place about which the Lord said, I will give it to you. Come with us and we will be good to you, for the Lord has spoken of good fortune for Israel.’ He said to him, ‘I won’t go, for I will go to my land and my birthplace.’ He said, ‘Please don’t leave us, for because you are familiar with our encampments in the desert and you will be our eyes.’’’ (Bamidbar 10:29-31

The most high-profile convert of all time, Yisro, had decided to go home to Midyan. Although the Jewish people were just a few days from entering the Land of Israel (this occurred before the sin of the spies), Yisro felt a need to return home. Why? After all he had left behind to join our people on this historic journey, why turn back now? Furthermore, how are we to understand Moshe’s counter-argument “you can’t leave for you are our eyes?”

Rav Yosef Chaim ben Eliyahu (Ben Ish Chai, 1835-1909) provides a magnificent insight. Yisro was a giver. Yisro was the kind of person who wanted to enhance the lives of those around him. Even before he found God, he was the high priest of Midyan and in that position saw to the spiritual and emotional needs of his constituents. Yisro ultimately left that life on a quest for true spirituality and became a member of the Jewish people. And it is here that he found himself surrounded by exceptional people. His son-in-law Moshe was the prophet of prophets, Aharon the Kohen Gadol, Elazar, Yehoshua and the Seventy Elders were present at every moment to inspire the masses. Yisro felt blessed to live within a cocoon of holiness but felt despondent that he had nothing to contribute. The nation didn’t need him; they had the most wonderful spiritual role models and teachers. And so Yisro approached Moshe. “I will go to my land and my birthplace. I can have an impact back in Midyan. You see my precious son-in-law, Midyan is a spiritual desert. I will return and open the hearts and souls of the residents with all the beautiful Torah and life-lessons I have learned. I want to be giver and not a taker. I have much to contribute but my abilities are not needed within the Jewish nation. Let me go back to inspire and spread the word of God.” Moshe responded, “Please don’t leave us… for you are our eyes. My beloved father-in-law, you inspire us every day through your mere presence. We were a slave nation for 210 years and when we heard the message of salvation we listened and acted. We had nothing and so when God offered us the opportunity to become something, we grabbed it. For us, it wasn’t much of a decision. Barbaric treatment and death in Egypt, or Torah, our own land and freedom to decide our destiny. But you, Yisro, had everything. You had a beautiful family, fame, wealth and an identity. Yet, you gave it all up for the sake of becoming something greater and holier. You sacrificed everything to find God, join the Jewish people and find deeper meaning and fulfillment in life. You inspire and teach us every day. You are the embodiment of the important lesson in life: if you truly desire greatness you must be ready to sacrifice. You can’t leave for you are our eyes, you teach us how to properly view life, how to be properly see ourselves.”

Yisro wanted to return for he desperately pined to be a giver. Moshe begged him to stay for Yisro’s mere presence was an ongoing inspiration.

It is from this simple exchange that we emerge with two powerful lessons:

Lesson #1 – Be a giver not a taker. The greatest gift one can receive in life is not something he gets, but rather, the ability to give. All too often we approach life situations thinking “What’s in this for me? What can I get out of my involvement? How will this benefit me?” The Jew asks one simple question: How can I give? How can I contribute? What can I do to help build the individuals and world around me? What’s in it for me? The opportunity to roll up my sleeves and give. What do I get out of it? The profound and life-affirming satisfaction that I am making a difference. If we nurture a constant desire to give, we will constantly seek out new avenues of growth and fulfilment.

Lesson #2 – There is no growth without sacrifice. In greater society, sacrifice is a bad word. We are told that we should be able to have what we want, when we want, how we want. But this is not true. Sacrifice is part of the very fabric of the human condition. Whenever we choose one thing, we are sacrificing another. We must learn the art of sacrifice. We each have things which hold us back. For some it may be a negative relationship, for others it may be a particular pleasure or behavior. Yisro left Midyan because he felt that his existence there was an anchor tethering him to a life of mediocrity. We all have our anchors which weigh us down and keep us from moving forward. If we truly want to grow, we must learn to sacrifice these items to forge forward.

Lesson #3 – Don’t always look for comfort. We often gravitate to situations with which we feel at home or comfortable. We may tend to socialize and associate only with people who look like us, practice like us and believe like us. Sometimes, your ability to make a dramatic contribution comes when you are willing to leave your comfort zone. You don’t always have to be with people who mirror you in every way; at times putting yourself in the uncomfortable position allows for maximum growth and impact.

Moshe was correct; Yisro is one of our most important teachers and role-models. Yisro’s legacy is not what he said. Yisro is not remembered for a particular sermon or lecture. Yisro didn’t leave us any meaningful statements, mantras or aphorisms. Yisro teaches us how to live through modeling a life-style of growth and achievement. This simple man has and continues to illuminate the eyes of our nation.

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